


The Artist and the Engineer

by Morgan Steelgrave (m_steelgrave)



Category: Avengers (Comic), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Italy, M/M, Renaissance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-27
Updated: 2010-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_steelgrave/pseuds/Morgan%20Steelgrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Civil engineer Antonio de Medici gains new respect for the visual arts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Artist and the Engineer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaitou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaitou/gifts).



Giannetta de Medici stood perfectly still as her dressmaker tucked and pinned and fretted over the pale green silk in which she was draped. Her cousin Antonio lounged in a nearby chair, working on his third glass of wine since arriving nearly two hours before. He was a busy man with many other tasks demanding his attention—he was civil engineer of the city-state of Firenze, after all—but when his cousin Gia summoned him, Antonio knew better than to refuse.

At the moment, Gia was in her element. Between giving polite but firm direction to the dressmaker and dictating the menu for an upcoming dinner party, Gia was in the process of strong-arming Antonio into sitting for a formal portrait.

"I don't see why you felt the need to bring an artist here from...where is it you found this rube, again?"

Gia instructed the dressmaker to lower the hem of her sleeve slightly. To her cousin she replied, "Bruges, but he's from Dublin."

"Oh God, no. Have you seen their art? It's repulsive."

"What do you care about art? You're a patron of engineers, not artists," said Gia with a toss of her head.

"I know repulsive when I see it," Antonio insisted.

"Will you sit for a portrait or not?"

Antonio sighed. "It's a monumental waste of time, Gia. There are a thousand things I'd rather be doing than sitting still for God knows how long while some Gaelic cretin paints stick figures of me."

"Would you like to meet him before committing to a painting? You could sit for a cartoon. If you don't like him, we'll find someone else. I promise,” said Gia.

He didn't like the way she was smiling. A smiling Gia did not bode well for the rest of the world. "Fine. I'll meet him," he said, throwing his hands into the air. His obvious displeasure only made her grin wider.

"Excellent! He's painting the interior of one of the chapels in the basilica. You can find him there. And Antonio," she called after him, "be nice."

The walk from Gia's home to the Basilica di San Lorenzo was not a long one. Antonio set a leisurely pace along the Via de Ginori, moving slowly through the crowd of people in voluminous brocade at the vendors’ stalls in the mercato. He paused to speak with several acquaintances and reluctantly turned down two invitations to dinner that evening. By the time he reached the basilica the sun was riding just above the top of the red tiled dome. Dreading the further waste of his time, Antonio took a deep breath and prepared himself to fire Gia's pet artist on the spot. He shooed the throng of pigeons away and entered the church from the older entrance on the east side, where the architecture reflected the simplicity of earlier times.

Although the pale marble interior of the basilica was designed to be light and airy, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust after his walk in the afternoon sun. When they did, what he saw took his breath away.

In one of the chapels along the right aisle, a man was perched atop a precarious stack of crates in order to reach a high part of the wall. There were candles and lanterns everywhere, burnishing the man's pale skin and blond hair to a ruddy gold. Somehow he remained perfectly balanced, able to paint the line of an angel's bare shoulder without a single tremor. Antonio was sure if he tried such a feat, he'd barely be able to stay upright, let alone paint a masterpiece while doing so.

The art was nice, too.

The artist must have heard him enter the chapel, because he glanced over his broad shoulder. "Hello! You must be Messer Antonio," he called down with a smile. "I'll be right down."

Antonio swallowed, finding his mouth suddenly dry. "Oh, don't let me interrupt your work. Take your time."

"I need to mix a color, anyway," the artist said, and before Antonio could quite follow the movement, he somersaulted down from the stack of crates and landed cat-like in front of him. He wiped his hand on his smock and extended it in Antonio's direction. "Stephen Rogers."

Antonio grasped Stephen's hand and wondered how he could have missed the fact that artists could be so...agile. "Antonio de Medici," he said.

"L'Ingegnere," Stephen added. "You're the civil engineer for Florence."

Stephen sounded impressed. Antonio hoped the flush he felt creeping up the back of his neck didn't show in the dim lighting. "Your Italian is very good."

He was rewarded with another smile. "Thank you, it's a work in progress. Your cousin Madonna Giannetta helps me with it. I've heard a lot about you from her during our lessons."

"I'm sure I don't want to know what dear Gia told you," Antonio said with a wince. Damn Giannetta de Medici to a thousand hells.

"Oh, you needn’t worry. She was quite complimentary of you. She told me all about your work, and your apprenticeship with Master da Vinci. I'm sure it was amazing. I admire his work very much."

"I was ten years old and there to study his work as an engineer, not as an artist, so I'm not sure you'd find it all that interesting."

"I'd love to hear about it, anyway," said Stephen as he turned to mix some paint in a small container. "Da Vinci was one of the first to marry art and natural philosophy so thoroughly. You may have studied with him as an engineer, but there was art in that, too."

Antonio thought briefly that nothing da Vinci ever painted or carved could compare to the brilliance of the smile on Stephen's face. Then he realized Stephen's lips were moving, but he hadn't heard a word that was spoken. "I beg your pardon?"

"The portrait," Stephen said, "that your cousin wishes to commission. Do you have any thoughts on how you'd like it to look?"

"Not particularly. It's her idea, not mine. I'm sure she'll give you the details."

Stephen laughed as he began to climb the stack of crates once again. "I'm sure she will," he agreed. "Does next week suit you? You could sit for a short while for me to lay out the composition and come back later once I actually start painting."

"That would be fine," Antonio said. He wished Stephen wore a closer-fitting tunic so he could see the stretch and pull of muscle as he climbed the tower of crates. He would look stunning in blue. "Would you like some scaffolding? It would be easier to navigate. And safer."

Stephen turned and grinned at him from over his shoulder. "Safer, but not nearly as fun."

Antonio laughed and bid him a good day before leaving the basilica. Squinting in the late afternoon sun, he found Gia's carriage parked in the street in front of the chapel. He tapped on the side and Gia drew back the curtain. "I was on my way to see a friend, and I thought I'd stop by. What was your impression of—how did you put it?—the Gaelic cretin?" she asked innocently.

"I'm sitting for him next week," said Antonio. He held up a finger when she started to speak. "Not one word, Giannetta. I don't care if you are my cousin, I'll have my brother throw you in a nunnery and you'll never buy another dress so long as you live."

Gia simply smiled and patted his cheek. "You're welcome, cousin."

* * *

Antonio stood in his parlor in full armor, cursing whomever decided that armor was the requisite attire for the subject of a formal portrait. The armor was quite beautiful, really—the ornate filigree was washed gold to glint against the steel—but it was damned uncomfortable to stand in for extended periods of time. At least Stephen hadn’t asked that he wear the armor and then drape something over him. There was such a portrait of Antonio’s cousin Lorenzo, and Antonio felt it simply confirmed for posterity that Lorenzo was stupid enough to agree to sit in both armor and ermine for hours.

Then again, Antonio would have worn armor, ermine, and a bear skin if Stephen requested it.

In front of him, Stephen sketched intently, blue eyes flickering up to regard him objectively from time to time. Antonio found himself working on projects in his head: aqueducts, cathedrals, trebuchets, improvements to da Vinci's horizontal waterwheel. The only sound was the scratching noise of chalk on paper. Antonio sighed.

Stephen smiled slightly, eyes still on the paper before him. "Bored?"

"Would it insult your artistic integrity if I said yes?"

"I'm not working on your hands right now. As long as you stand in that position, you can work on something to keep you occupied." Stephen instructed one of his assistants to bring him paper and pen. The supplies delivered, Stephen dismissed the boy and the two men were alone once again. Soon Antonio was as absorbed in his work as Stephen, sketching out the details of a catapult, then an alternate wing design for da Vinci's flying machine.

He was so focused that he didn't immediately notice the absence of the chalk’s scratching. Eventually Antonio looked up to find Stephen standing to the side of his easel, arms crossed over his chest and a contemplative look on his face. "What?" he asked, pen pausing.

"This is you," said Stephen.

"Well, yes," Antonio replied. "It is a portrait of me, after all."

Stephen shook his head. "I mean this is you. Antonio de Medici l'Ingegnare. The engineer. The person who improved on da Vinci's ideas, who designed all those buildings here in Florence. That's you."

Antonio shrugged. "It is, yes. Why did you stop working?"

A flush spread across Stephen's face, and Antonio's heart felt as if it might hammer through his breast plate. "I...you moved. From your position."

"I did?" said Antonio with all the innocence he could muster. Gia wasn't the only one who could play coy. "Then perhaps you should reposition me."

Stephen crossed to where he was standing next to his desk. He placed a large, chalk-stained hand on his armored shoulder and turned it slightly away from the easel. Then he delicately moved Antonio's head so it was turned more toward the easel. Stephen's fingertips remained under his chin for a moment as the artist studied his subject.

"What is it?"

"I'd rather paint you like this."

Antonio reminded himself to breathe. "How?"

"Working. As the inventor, not as a man in a suit of armor he never wears."

"Oh," said Antonio. "I could take the armor off, if you like."

Stephen shook his head and started to remove his hand from where it rested under Antonio's jaw. "It wouldn't be proper," he said.

Antonio caught his hand and glanced down at it, rubbing a smudge of red chalk with his thumb before looking back up at Stephen. "Perhaps a figure study is in order?"

Stephen's eyes narrowed slightly and for a moment, Antonio thought he might have ruined everything. Not only had he scared away one of the most beautiful and fascinating people he'd ever met, he did it before the portrait was even completed. Gia would kill him. No, she would make him sit for a thousand portraits by artists less interesting and talented than Stephen Rogers, and then she would kill him.

His morose spiral of thinking was interrupted when Stephen smiled and said, "I thought you'd never ask," and leaned in to brush Antonio's lips with his own.

* * *

"How is the portrait coming along?" Gia asked from her desk. Antonio flopped unceremoniously into a chair.

"Well, we're very nearly finished with that hideous one in the armor. We've done a few studies for a more informal one, but we haven't made much progress in a few days. Stephen is very easily distracted."

Gia finally looked up from her letter-writing and caught him mid-smile. "Then we'll have to fire him, I suppose," she said.

Antonio wagged a finger at her. "Don't you dare," he said. "Seriously, Gia. I owe you for this one."

She crossed the room and stood behind his chair, leaning down to throw her arms around his neck. "Antonio, darling, if I cannot marry you myself, then at the very least I'd like to be the one responsible for your happiness. And you are happy, are you not?"

He turned his head to kiss her cheek. "I am."

"Good. Now I expect the both of you to be present at our dinner party tomorrow night. Henry Pym's coming to speak at the university and I'd like you to meet him."

"The natural philosopher with the Cabinet of Curiosities? That's going to be sparkling conversation."

Gia swatted his arm. "No worse than the physics behind Archimedes' so-called death ray," she said. "Besides, he's promised to behave. I like him, Antonio. I think you and Stephen will like him, too."

"Oh, fine," said Antonio with a sigh of elaborate suffering. "We'll be there, don't you worry."

She kissed him on the cheek and returned to her correspondence as the cathedral bell struck two. "I never do. Now go on! You'll be late for your sitting and I'll never get this done if you're here."

"Gia, you are the best cousin ever," Antonio said from the doorway. Gia didn't look up from her correspondence, but Antonio thought he saw her lips quirk.

* * *

Now with bonus artwork because I was bored! Both are quick brush/pen and ink. 

[A study for Stephen's formal portrait of Antonio](https://docs.google.com/open?id=0B1aRPKl7IpEgU3p5UVB5UnZiZVE). Based on [this](https://docs.google.com/open?id=0B1aRPKl7IpEgYkF5UVlfMTZaN1k). 

[Stephen captures Tony reading an engineering treatise while in the dreaded armor-and-ermine pose](https://docs.google.com/open?id=0B1aRPKl7IpEgLWl3bXVEdlFlaWs). Based on [this](https://docs.google.com/open?id=0B1aRPKl7IpEgekh6MGN6UnpyMkE).

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in Florence before Cosimo I de Medici was Duke of Florence, so sometime in the 1520s. Da Vinci died in 1519. I have no idea if they had civil engineers at all then, let alone ones devoted to a city-state like Florence. I've substituted some cognate names. Antonio is obviously Tony, Stephen uses the older English spelling of the name, and Giannetta (Gia) for Janet. Henry Pym is just about as English as you can get. It's difficult to walk the line between authenticity and fangirl Japanese, so I hope the names don't get in the way of the story. Apologies if I've butchered any Italian words or names.


End file.
